Stained Hands
by PromisedRainbow
Summary: Ryan Hardy killed Luke, and Lily Gray's wrath endangers the ones he cares of most.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N): I had other plans, but after watching** _ **The Following**_ **twice, I decided to write this story. It starts at season two episode six (with a slight plot change) and there will POV swaps every couple scenes for a nice change of perspective, and to try something new. As you can tell by the very angsty title, there will be some interesting development coming up in the story. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the plot or characters of** _ **The Following**_ **.**

Mike shut the door on Luke. My eyes met Max's, and I nodded as she climbed into the car. I turned to Weston, his eyes drowning in his own vexation. He started to open the door when I grabbed his shoulder, dragging him to the back of the car. "What's up?" He looked back anxiously.

I chose my words carefully. "Are you okay, Mike?"

Weston looked away in disbelief. "I'm fine."

"Give me a break." I glanced back at the car, where Max was drumming her fingers impatiently in the front seat. "Cut the crap. These are real lives at stake, and your pride can not get in the way of this."

"Ryan," he said, glaring at me. "I'm good. Trust me."

I looked at him warily, as though examining for any wounds, any signs of vulnerability to drag him out of the field. Sighing, I looked up at the sky. "I'm going to regret this."

"What?"

"I need you to go to Lily's house instead of going with Max." Before he interrupted, I quickly continued. "If Lily brings Joe, I need to be there. I need to be the one to bring him in, Mike, and I need you to be able to go alone."

"Yeah sure, I got it."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," I grumbled, tossing him the keys. "Take the car, get in quietly. Don't make a mess of things." Mike smirked, tossing the keys in his hands as he made his way to the car. I climbed into the car with Max in the front, ignoring her raised eyebrow. "Change of plans, buddy," I said, looking at Luke through the rear view mirror. "You're stuck with me now."

* * *

Luke collapsed in front of me, a hole protruding his head. My gun was still aimed at him as though I was afraid he would bounce back to life. I heard tires driving against the gravel. Turning around, I quickly aimed my gun as shots rang through the air and Lily and Mark drove around the curb and out of sight.

I dropped the gun to my side, panting and out of breath. I turned to see Max running towards me, throwing herself at me as she embraced me in a hug. Yet I could only stare at the dead body lying on the ground.

 _You didn't have a choice._

 _Liar. You didn't need to kill him. He could have helped._ I sighed, forcing myself to relax into Max's embrace. _You'll fix this._

* * *

"Ryan, I can explain-"

"Mike." I glared at him, pausing. "Stop talking." I sat on the floor outside of Mendez's office. Mike restlessly stood next to me after exiting the room, a smear of blood stained on his shirt. I arrived thirty minutes before to see him in the hall with Mendez opening the door to call Weston in. She glanced at me impatiently before motioning Mike inside and telling me to wait outside.

"I know you don't trust me, especially with what I pulled on Mark."

"You were impulsive, rash-"

I heard a scoff as he slid down the wall beside me. "So in another words, you."

"You keep saying that, Mike, but we both know that's a terrible excuse. Every time you do something reckless, you always compare yourself to me, that I would do the same thing, that I would do that if Joe were there," I argued.

"But isn't that true? Why should I be under scrutiny when you would do the same?"

I inhaled deeply. "So I'm your fall back. If you get in trouble, I take the blame?" Mike sighed, as though taking my words into consideration. I was tempted to take it back; we were at the same page, at one point or another. My words were pushed by my frustration to Lily, that she didn't deliver Joe, and toward Weston, that he wasn't able to get any information from the home. I almost wanted to apologize as Mike pushed himself up, telling me that he was tired and was going home.

I sat outside for few moments until Mendez opened her door, exhaustion lingering in her voice. "Ryan, I need you and Weston in here."

"He just left," I said, nodding toward the door.

"Well get him here. Call HRT if you need to," she joked humorlessly, shutting the door. I stood up, exiting the building. Standing in the street, I searched for Mike before pulling out my phone, ready to call him when a shot rang out, and a man beside me fell to the ground.

A mad panic of screams erupted. Another bullet hit a woman in front of me, her groceries spilling on the sidewalk. I pulled out my gun, searching aimlessly for the gunman when another man fell, his eyes wide open in shock. A fourth shot rang out, and a searing pain spread on my arm. Everyone on the street were running or hiding, with no gunman in sight. _The sky_ , I realized while I crouched down. _The shots are coming from above._

I ran to kneel behind a car, searching for any gun in sight, a glint on the rooftops. The three civilians shot were in the open, bleeding in the lower abdomen. Non lethal, yet precise, the evidence of a talented aimer, and yet I escaped with a graze on the shoulder.

A minute passed while people frantically called 911, and the three victims huddled to shelter themselves behind cars and buildings. Agents from the FBI started to come out with shields, cautiously reassuring civilians and tending to the wounded. "Ryan," Mendez called out, quickly coming to my spot. "What happened? Were you shot?!" She turned to examine the wound. I shouldered her, still looking out to the street.

"I'm fine. Three others were shot, lower abdomen. They were all walking beside me, the shots were precise."

"You're saying you were targeted for this?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure, but it's my best guess." Gina gazed out at the street, mouthing 'what a mess'.

An agent approached our area, telling us that the area and rooftops were cleared. The EMT arrived, carrying off the three civilians in gurneys before tending to my wound. Max emerged from the crowd of sirens and agents, searching for me before catching my eye at the edge of an ambulance. "Ryan! I came as soon as I heard. What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I grumbled. "It's just a graze. Was a suspect found?"

"No, there was no sign of the gunman on any roofs, and none of the civilians witnessed anything. The three victims will make it. We're hoping to connect the bullets to a suspect." Max sighed, eyeing the scene. "Mendez told me you think the attack was targeting you."

"The gunshots were precise, and the victims were the people surrounding me. I don't see how I shouldn't be wounded as well unless it was for a certain reason. A message."

"Ryan." Mendez was by the door, motioning for me. "Both of you, inside. Now."

"Sir..." the medic started before I reassured him that it was fine. Max and I walked toward the building, where agents were milling around us and voices were thrown across the room.

"Washington's going crazy over this," Mendez started as we gathered by the desks. "An attack this direct toward an FBI agent is an attack on the bureau itself unless we can connect this to the case directly. We're going to need a full debrief on the events leading up the shooting. Where the hell is Weston?"

"He was heading out, hoped he was done for the day. I was gonna call him when the shooting started," I answered, weaving through the masses to keep up with Gina. A buzz came from my pocket as the big screen came into view. I opened my phone.

"Is that him?"

"No, Lily just sent a text." I handed the phone to Max.

"It's a link to a video."

"Alright, let's get it up on the big screen. Hey Hopkins," Mendez said, nodding to Max. My phone connected to the screen, and Lily Gray appeared.

"Hello Ryan," she said, her soft voice deceiving any motives hiding in her heart. _I killed her son_ , I thought, _and this is the cost._

"Is this live?" Mendez asked.

"No, it's time stamped an hour ago," Hopkins replied.

I took a closer look at the footage. "Where is she? House, dining room, where?"

Lily sighed, her voice revealing her hollow empathy. Her face showed no sign of grief; no red eyes, no tears washing down her cheeks. The only thing that remained was her merciless wrath staring down at us through her gentle eyes. "I'm sorry about the three innocents. It's unfortunate that their lives were endangered for your mistakes." The surrounding became no more recognizable. She was in front of a simple cream wall, one that resembled any home in the world. "There is a sniper, watching your every move. If you are seen, you will be shot, and I will make sure that you live long enough to suffer the pain that I am feeling.

"You killed my son, Ryan Hardy. You ripped out my heart and crushed it in front of me. Learn to keep your loved ones close, my friend. They can be taken away when you least expect."

An eruption exploded in the room. I turned to Max, and I held her to me as closely as possible.

* * *

"You will have all round protection, and don't you even try to slip out, Hardy, or else I will pull you from your grave and kill you myself," Marshall Turner said pointedly as I entered the home from the garage. "You will have full access to the investigation from this house, but you are not to step out of this house at any time, is that clear?"

"And Max, my sister?"

"They're both being put in protection as we speak, as well as the rest of your family. Your niece will be arriving soon."

I pushed back a curtain, glancing out the window to the vast expanse of grass and trees. A car was parked outside where agents patrolled the grounds. A handful of people were setting up in the kitchen, and dishes clattered as they prepared for dinner. "And what about the sniper. Are there any more leads to a suspect?"

Turner shook his head. "The victims are still in surgery, and the bullets will still have to be analyzed through the database."

"We don't have time for that. Lily isn't going to wait for the labs to come back," I grumbled. I remembered Gray's threats, and danger she put on my loved ones. "I did this, I endangered my family." Turner opened his mouth before someone called my name.

"Agent Hardy." An agent knocked on the door. "Another text has been sent to your phone by Lily Gray." I nodded to Turner, and we both made our way to the kitchen.

"Hello Ryan Hardy." Lily's face appeared on a computer, this time in parking lot with rows of cars behind her. "It's time for me to pay you back for the death of my son."

 **(A/N): This is the first piece I've written in a while, so apologies if it's a bit rough. Reviews and criticism are welcome.**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N): Hello there. It's been a while.**

 **I've been busy lately, and my passion for this hobby has died down. However, I spent a long time on the outline, so I plan on sticking around for a bit. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the plot or characters of** _ **The Following**_ **.**

"Look, I'm sorry honey, I'll be there on time… Yes, I'm sure… Mhmm… Love you." I sighed, leaning back against the wall with cellphone in hand. This wouldn't be the last promise I would break.

I pushed myself from the wall and walked back inside. "How's the wife, Rob?" Lennard joked as I entered the safehouse, handing me a glass of water. I nodded to another agent, swapping our patrol rounds. "Oh, you know, same old same old. Still angry I missed our dinner with her parents."

Lennard spewed his water back into his own cup. "Robinson, you are a dead man." He smacked me on the shoulder and walked to the kitchen, his head thrown back, laughing. I smirked, my annoyance drained away as I silenced my phone and slipped it into my back pocket.

I started my way to the kitchen when I heard a thundering of footsteps. I looked down the hall to see Marshall Turner storming out, pointing straight at me. "Go get Hardy!" he commanded before going back down the hall, shouting, "Mendez! Get Mendez on the phone!" I scrambled to the office downstairs, running at an urgency that made people make a hole through the kitchen. Skidding to a halt at the office, I opened the door as collectively as I could. The table was buried under a mass of papers and files, the board covered with details and pictures I couldn't comprehend. Hardy was on his phone, hand on his forehead as he paced slowly around his room. He looked up at me. "Marshall Turner needs you at command." Hardy quickly said goodbye to the person on the other line before following me.

Hearing the commotion, a handful of agents migrated to the master bedroom. Hardy and I weaved our way in before arriving to the table of command. Turner looked at him. "You're gonna want to see this."

He turned the computer screen to Hardy, showing a video of Weston, gagged, tied, and unconscious in a car.

"Is this live?"

"No sir, timestamp was just before the shootings." An agent said. A few agents and marshalls sat at the table, hands dancing on their computers, oblivious to the murmurs of the agents in the room. After five seconds, the video ended. "The images from the window shows a restaurant a block from headquarters. CCTV confirms the location."

Hardy made his way to the agent's computer. "Are there footages of the car?"

"The only angle we have is this one," he said. The footage showed part of a black SUV and the front of the restaurant. "Footage quality can't read the make or model of the car."

"And the license is blocked." Hardy brought his hand up to his forehead. I could see his other hand clinging to a chair, knuckles white in flaming anger. "What about shop cameras, ATVs, phones…"

"No ATVs in the area or public surveillance tapes," Turner interrupted, "but we'll get an agent out there to confiscate any available camera footage. In the meantime, I need transport Max here from her safe house. I have a feeling we'll be needing her soon." He pointed at me accusingly. "Robinson, I'm putting you in charge of Hardy's ass. You go where he goes, and make sure he doesn't make of run for the door."

"Yes, sir," I said in what I hoped was unwavering confidence. From my peripheral vision I could see Hardy glance at me skeptically. Somehow, I had to keep Hardy, an agent well above my seniority, in check. Lennard patted me in the back, as if saying, ' _Good luck'_ or ' _You're dead twice over'_. I turned my attention back to Hardy before noticing that he was gone.

I shoved my way through the waning crowd to catch up.

* * *

"Oh thank goodness," Max sighed as she got up from the table. "What took you so long?"

Turner entered the apartment, nodding at the two marshalls in the room. "You're needed at the safe house. Lily sent another video." He looked at the marshalls. "Back entrance. No windows, no doors."

"How's Ryan?" Max was tempted to stop and grab Turner by the arms, make him look her in the eye, and tell her he's okay.

Instead, Turner diverted his attention to the hallway, double checking with the security and marshalls before pulling her arm down the hall. He made sure she was between him and the marshalls, away from the one or two blocked windows. "He's not the one you should be worried about."

Max stopped by a window, pulling Turner back too. "Weston?" she asked. Turner looked at her before briskly moving forward, answering her before saying a word.

The ride out was speechless. It had only been an hour since the shooting. The bullets were being run through the database, and police had barely skimmed the surface of the crime scene. From what Turner was telling her, the police didn't know _where_ the crime scene was. All they had was a few videos, all untraceable, all unidentifiable except for the faces of Lily Gray and Weston.

The grim scene of the city turned into a lush green pasture. Tall grass stood tall alongside the road, untrampled by the soles of man. The trees, while old and daunting in height, comforted her, as if all of her problems and fears could be pacified by a thick twig with leaves. Wildflowers bloomed sporadically through the fields and forests, the chaotic and unruly petals smiling at her from under the shadow of the oak and grass. In the middle of this was a stark black road, it's perfect edges cutting into the livelihood of the meadow.

It was beautiful. Or as beautiful as something could be against the blood lost that day.

The road wound up a hill and led to the safe house. It stood gallantly up the mountain, its stone walls trapping in the warmth and safety they needed. They entered the garage after passing the crowd of marshalls outside. Max went inside and was led to her uncle.

"Hey, Max," Hardy said briefly as she entered the study. Max leaned on the table, looking over his notes.

"You good?"

"I'm not the one kidnapped by a psycho family, so yeah, I'd say I'm doing pretty well," Hardy answered, his voice hardly matching his sarcasm. _Fair enough_.

"Any news from Gray?" she asked, scanning over the papers. There were property reports, criminal records, sniper assassinations, forensics, scattered over the table.

Hardy shook his head. "I'm looking at possible safe houses for her, but with Lily's money, it's basically impossible to track." He threw his pencil on the table and leaned back in his chair. "Bullets are untraceable; military grade, unaccessible to citizens-"

"Unless you know where to look." Max interrupted. Hardy laid still on his chair, staring into the wall. The black out curtains shielded him from sight, creating a shadow on half of the office. A lamp and the cracks from the door were all that lit the room.

"Ryan-"

Hardy pushed himself up and opened the door with Max on his heels. He pushed through the marshalls in the kitchen, leaving a wave of grumbles in his wake. Hardy marched into the hallway and opened the masters bedroom; all of the agents looked up at him before looking back down at their work. "Turner." The marshall walked to him cautiously. "I have an idea."

Turner looked doubtful. "Is it going to get you killed?"

Hardy raised his eyebrows and challengingly cocked his head to the side. "Not if we do it right."

 **(A/N): I didn't do any research for this, just got this from the little I know from the series. I apologize for my inadequate forensics vocabulary, and would appreciate reviews and criticism. Until next time.**


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